


Toothbrush

by Tiny_Dragongirl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale communicates through books, Challenge Response, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Footnotes, M/M, Post-Canon, or the art of taking it slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: Festina lenteor whatever.AKA Aziraphale catches up. Crowley is smitten.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49
Collections: Name That Author Round One





	Toothbrush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Name That Author event on the GO Events discord server. The prompt was: "Six weeks after the world doesn't end, Aziraphale shows up at Crowley's door holding a book."  
> Many thanks to @[curtaincall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtaincall) for organising this game! It was great fun.

“Angel.” Crowley opens the door to find a fretting Aziraphale on his threshold instead of today’s newspaper.[1]

“Good morning, my dear.”

It’s been six weeks since the Nopocalypse and… things… have been happening. Between the two of them. Which is good. They have been taking it slow—so far they have gone from fiercely denying their feelings to acknowledging their existence. _Festina lente_ or whatever.

“Is everything all right?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“Ahh. I’m afraid I have chosen an inconvenient time for my visit.”

“Nonsense. Come in.”

Aziraphale walks in and continues fretting in Crowley’s lounge. He is fiddling with the book in his hands and his eyes are darting around the place. It almost looks like he is trying to find a spot for his book. Crowley swings his arms like he is warming up for a spot of swim and clears his throat.[2]

“Angel, just… come in. I mean, more in than— So. In.”

Very smooth, Crowley.

“Yes, thank you, my dear.”

At this rate, they will reach Crowley’s bedroom in a week. Uh, no, wrong thought, too fast, too fast, take two steps back and root to the spot, thank you very much.

He mentally walks himself into his kitchen and asks, “Would you like some tea? Or cocoa?”

“Yes, no, I mean, thank you, maybe—”[3] Aziraphale stutters. “Maybe later.” He takes a fortifying breath and holds up his book. It’s ‘Says She To Her Neighbour, What? By An Old-Fashioned Englishman.’ by Barbara Hofland. “I was wondering if I could bring it here.” A significant pause.[4] “And leave it here.”

Crowley can practically feel the wheels turning in his head.

“Yeah? Sure. Why not?” It’s one of those moments when he has no idea what’s going on in his angel’s head. “My flat is your flat or whatever it is they say.”

Except that’s not how they say it, isn’t it? But this is just a flat, not Crowley’s home because his home is wherever Aziraphale is— Oh.

The penny drops and in its fall it puts a wide grin on Crowley’s face. Aziraphale, his brilliant, stupid, fretty, beautiful angel, is trying to communicate commitment, and he wants to cuddle him for it forever. They are taking the next step and finally it feels like walking together.

“You know, humans usually start with a toothbrush.”

[1] Not that he has ever subscribed to one but ever since he saw the paperboy scene in ‘While You Were Sleeping’, he occasionally miracles up a Times or Guardian, which lands with a thud on his doormat.

[2] After 6000 years of a relationship (any and every kind of a relationship, really), one would expect them to act less awkward around each other but, alas, no.

[3] Demons might have invented mixed signals but at least one angel became an expert in practicing them.

[4] Crowley would discorporate to know what it signifies.


End file.
